


folie à deux

by foundCarcosa



Category: Sucker Punch (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 22:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is more invested in the nightclub 'verse than Blue himself...?<br/>And who is more susceptible to his seeming madness than Vera Gorski?</p>
            </blockquote>





	folie à deux

"You seem happy today," Vera remarks coolly as he strides in, slapping palm against palm, a smirk touching his lips and a snappy gleam in his eye.

"Did you see the new girl? Pigtails, baby face? Eyes like… like pools of…" Blue flicks his fingers in front of his eyes impatiently, grasping for the words, and Vera shakes her head, indicating the couch.

"Spare me the bad poetry, Mr. Jones. Have a seat."

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he laughs, tossing himself onto the leather seat, arms spread wide as he rests them and his head on the back cushion. "I’m not crazy, you know."

"We do not use that word," Vera counters primly. "It does not matter, anyway. I check in with all of the orderlies, not just you."

"No, no -- me especially." Blue’s eyes latch onto hers, dark irises gleaming. She purses her lips and breaks the contact. "You like me, don’t you, Vera. Want to know _all_ about me.”

"My name is Dr. Gorski, Mr. Jones, and this is strictly—"

"Well, let me tell you something about me." He leans forward, hands clasped between his knees, and Vera, making notes, lets the pen rest as she humours him. "This place? This… this asylum? Nice and cosy, sure. But this isn’t where we’re supposed to be."

Vera’s brows furrow before she can stop them. Knowing he has her attention, Blue’s grin widens.

"You look at me, right, and you think, eh, whatever, head orderly, looks like every other guy in the place, okay, he’s a little cute, but that’s it, right? Well, let me tell you something, Vera—"

"Dr. Gorski."

"—in _real_ life, Vera, this whole place? It’s _mine._ That theater down the hall? An _actual_ theater. These girls? _Showgirls.”_

Vera sighs, taking off her glasses. _Perhaps the hiring process should be more..._ stringent…

"You and I, Vera, we… we groom them. I own the club, I take care of the business, the bottom line, and you train them. You teach them to be dancers. Performers. And when the clients come in, we make them _very_ happy.”

"Mr. Jones—"

"And most of all…" Here, Blue chuckles, leaning back in the seat again, and for the briefest of moments his dingy white uniform seems to gleam in the lamplight, like a fine shirt and tailored trousers, and Vera blinks. "Most of all, _you_ have to answer… to _me.”_

"Are you quite finished?" He just tilts his head, the grin dialing back down to his customary smirk.  
"Whatever you… fantasise about on your own time is your business, Mr. Jones. Here, you are an employee of Lennox House, and I _do_ hope you behave accordingly."

"Come on, Vera. Can’t you see it? The lights… the money… the fine corsets, the fancy gowns? You are a _vision,_ my dear…”

A whiff of Chanel No. 5, the glitter of sequins, naked bulbs above a freshly-cleaned mirror — no. She blinks again, inhaling sharply, her hand fluttering up to touch the cameo around her neck. She frowns severely, but Blue has already seen the spotlights reflected in her eyes.

"I will not entertain this any further. You may go."

"These girls are all mine. _You…_ are mine.” Blue stands, predatory and restless and perhaps less harmless than she’d assumed, and she draws herself up, ignoring the ghostly clink of ice in a bourbon glass, ignoring the faint strains of music — nothing like the soothing, mind-opening melodies she plays for the girls, nothing like that at all — ignoring the whalebone she can _feel_ curving her abdomen and lifting her chest. And most of all, ignoring that look in Blue’s eyes. “And that new girl? She will be mine, too. Oh, will she.”

"Get out of my office, Mr. Jones."

"I am more powerful than you can imagine," he whispers, close enough to stir the errant wisps of hair at her temple, and she almost slaps him, almost, but she stands up instead, quickly and to full height, putting him off-balance, restoring order.

"Leave, and get back to work, or I _will_ have you fired," she snaps, trembling with anger, imagining snatching him by his collar and pushing her fist into his throat, imagining his shoulder blades slamming into the wall behind him, imagining pushing him to the floor and grinding her pointed heel into his groin—

He leaves, but not without laughing, knowingly, as if he’d seen what she’d seen and approved, as if that was _exactly_ what he’d wanted.

That night, she stands in front of the full-length mirror in her high-necked nightgown and imagines herself in lingerie and garters, and she knows she is lost.


End file.
